They came out into the hard road, and still he carried her, with her arms tight about his neck. The Major looked on with a sad smile, for the sights of the day were still red before his eyes. But banteringly, he said: "First time I ever saw this hard road so muddy." Louise laughed, whispered to Jim and he eased her to the ground. "Why, they've burnt Wash Sanders' house!" the Major cried. "See, over there?" They came opposite the place where the house had stood, and the Major suddenly drawing back, said to Jim: "Lead her around that way. She mustn't see this and she mustn't ask what it is." Jim led her away, and the Major looked at Wash Sanders. Across a low rail fence his body lay, his hands drooping to the ground, and in front of him lay a gun that had fallen from his grasp; and a short distance away the Major found a mulatto, lying dead beside the road. At the Major's house the women were preparing supper. The hungry men, some of them bleeding, had assembled in the yard. Darkness had fallen. "Father," said Tom, coming forward, leading Sallie Pruitt by the hand, "mother says that this girl shall live with us." "Yes," said the old man, putting his hands on Sallie's cheeks and kissing her. "Yes, my dear, you shall live with us." And turning to Low, he said: "You are a brave man. My hand, sir." And Low, grasping the old man's hand, replied: "I am an Englishman, and my father is a gentleman." "Gid," said the Major, "my name is John, God bless you." Down the road arose sharp words of command, and the burning top of a tall pine snag threw its light upon bayonets in the highway. The soldiers were come. "I wonder what is to be the end of this day's beginning," said the Englishman. "God only knows," the Major replied. THE END. End of Project Gutenberg's An Arkansas Planter, by Opie Percival Read